Fragile Flame
by The Queen of Pecans
Summary: All he can do is hold her. Hold her like he won't let go, kiss her like there's no tomorrow. Because when everyone's life is on the line, what else can he really do? Delena. Damon/Elena. Picks up where the season finale left off. Please R&R.
1. Not A Stranger

**Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries. If I did, well, let's just say we would be seeing a _whole _lot of shirtless-Damon scenes. I also do not own the song _Cut _by Plump (a fabulously wonderful song) which not only provided inspiration for this story, but also leant its lyrics to the title (and chapter titles).**

...

Something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact that Jeremy hadn't answered her call. Or maybe it was the unexpected noise in the kitchen. Possibly even the eerie sense that was surrounding the house. Whatever it was that had tipped her off, Elena knew something was wrong. It was one of those sixth-sense feelings, creeping up her arms and sending shivers down her spine.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed through the hallway as she took a step towards the kitchen. "Aunt Jenna, is that you?" There wasn't an answer and Elena continued cautiously towards the kitchen, pulling out her cell phone in the process. Her finger hovered over the _one _on her phone as held it against her side, entering the kitchen.

"Hello, Elena." She jumped, turning, and her finger automatically pressed down on the one, speed-dialing Stefan.

She gasped.

Elena was staring at herself.

No, that was impossible. How could she be staring at herself? It was like—like a _twin _or something. And then it suddenly hit her.

"_Katherine_," she breathed. The phone clattered to the floor, still dialing Stefan, as she stared at the vampire in front of her.

Before either of them could say a thing, a muffled voice came from the other end of the line. "_Hey, it's Stefan's phone. Leave a message_." A resonating beep sounded through the room and Elena practically choked on air.

"Stefan, it's Ele—"

_Click._

Elena gasped once more as Katherine was suddenly right beside her, clicking the fallen phone shut. "Now, Elena, don't you think it would be better if Stefan didn't hear our little … exchange?"

And that was when she saw the blood.

Any retort she'd been about to make flew out the window as she stared at the bright, red blood on the counter. "What happened?" she choked out, grasping the edge of the stool to steady herself, "Who—who did you _kill_?"

Her breath was shallow as the possibilities ran through her mind. Jeremy? Was that why he hadn't answered her call? Aunt Jenna—naive, sweet, innocent Aunt Jenna?_No. _She couldn't have, it didn't—

"John," Katherine stated curtly, examining her cuticles, "I already buried him out back—though I use the term _bury _lightly. It was more of a toss with a few shovels of dirt piled on top. But, don't worry, Elena—I'm sure he'll be decayed and hardly noticeable within the next few weeks."

And then, not knowing what else to do, Elena screamed.

...

Damon couldn't move.

Well, no—he _could. _But he didn't want to; not yet, anyways. His mind was still reeling, stuck on the kiss. So, instead, he'd settled himself into Elena's neighbors' hammock—like they would notice, anyway—while he waited for the weird feeling in his stomach to go away.

It wasn't because he felt guilty, at least he'd been able to deduce that much already. No, he was Damon Salvatore—he didn't feel guilty for kissing other people's girlfriends, not even his _brother's _girlfriend.

But he felt _wrong. _Or, the kiss had felt wrong, rather—familiar, almost, with and edge to it that he couldn't quite place; something had been _off _about it. And it was making him feel all wrong, a feeling he particularly disliked.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, he let his eyes wander about the sky, tracing patterns in the stars. It hadn't felt how he'd expected it to. By all means, it had been a good kiss, but still—something hadn't been right about it. And he couldn't figure out _what_.

Damon sighed.

Why was he obsessing over this? She'd kissed him back, after all, hadn't she? _Damn it. _Damon hated feeling this wrong-ness, accompnied by _confusion. _He didn't want to wonder about things; he wanted to _know _things. He liked being in the know. Yet, right now, he was so painfully out of the know.

And it sucked.

Muttering curse words, he finally forced himself to sit up. It would do no good to sit here all night and do nothing but ponder the kiss while trying to figure out what it was that he was missing—no good at all. He could at least ponder in his bed, comfortable at home, he figured. Standing up and stretching, Damon allowed himself one more glance over the fence at Elena's house. He spotted her bedroom window, second one on the right. The light was off, but he could still make out her bed, her desk, the dresser, mirror—

Damon tensed.

Someone was screaming.

A scream, a voice, that he would recognize anywhere in a heartbeat

Elena.

It took him less than a second to hop over the fence and reach Elena's back door. He opened it in a flash, sprinting towards the source of the continued screams at an inhuman speed. Reaching the kitchen, Damon stopped short, his eyes falling into a look of surprise before tensing at the sight in front of him. _Katherine. _If she had came a month or so earlier, he imagined he would've showered her with kisses, made love to her all day and night.

Now, he wanted to tear the _bitch _limb from limb. And not just because she had Elena in a chokehold, though that was certainly a big part of it.

"Let her go," he hissed, taking a slow step forward.

Katherine laughed, a tinkling soprano sound. "Now, Damon, let's play nice." She laughed again, tightening her grip on Elena, and Damon felt anger course through his body. "I have to say, Damon dear, this is _such _a surprise. I wasn't expecting your company for my little … _chat_ … with Elena, but, rest assured, you won't hinder my plans much at all. If anything, it makes the whole ordeal even _more _exciting."

Elena whimpered under Katherine's tight grip and both sets of vampire eyes turned towards her. "Oh, Elena dear, am I holding on too tight? Is my grip _uncomfortable?_"

Tears formed in Elena's eyes, but she didn't say anything.

"Too bad." Katherine sighed as if she were bored, tightening her grip even more. Elena let out a strangled-sounding cough as if she were choking and, in a flash, Damon was right in front of Katherine, leaning forward to rip her hands off Elena's neck.

Lazily, Katherine reached up one hand in vampire-speed, stopping him quickly.

"Don't forget, Damon, I have about three-hundred years on you." She laughed again.

"Please," Elena whimpered, and Damon felt a little piece of his heart break. Without thinking, he lunged forward once more, a futile attempt to pull Elena from Katherine's grasp.

"Now, now, Damon," Katherine told him, smiling smugly, "If you want no harm to come to pretty little Elena here, I would suggest you take a few steps back." Damon easily obliged. "Good. Now, I have a little proposition for you, Elena. You see, you have something that I want."

Elena whimpered again and Damon clenched and unclenched his hands into fists by his sides.

"No need to get impatient." Katherine laughed. "You're worse than your brother." Raising an eyebrow, she went on, "After all, you're just as protective of her as him—maybe even more—and the two of you haven't even kissed yet."

"_No,_" Damon hissed, as the last pieces of the puzzle clicked in his mind, "It wasn't—it couldn't have been you."

Katherine grinned. "Oh Damon, but it _was _me."

And then, before Katherine could mention anything more about the proposition, Damon had once more sprinted forwards, lunging for her. How _dare _she. And, worse, he couldn't believed he'd fallen for it, couldn't believe he'd bought her act as Elena. Of course, he'd know something had been off about the kiss, but _still. _All along, he'd thought he'd kissed Elena, but really, it had been Katherine. And maybe that was what hurt the most.

Logic clouded by anger, sheer rage even, Damon grabbed Katherine, pushing her and, consequently, Elena, up against the counter. However, it only took Katherine a mere moment to hurl him across the room in response. His head hit the back of the table as he clattered against the floor, every bone aching from the force of the push.

"Now, Damon." Katherine's smile was smug. "Didn't I ask you to play nicely? And now poor Elena has to pay." And, without waiting for a retort, Katherine plunged her teeth into Elena's neck.

Horror washed across Damon's face at the sound of Elena's scream, the sight of the blood running down her neck as Katherine sucked her blood. The horror built in his throat as he watched Elena begin crumpling to the floor and, without being sure what it was that he was doing, he lunged forwards once more.

By a miracle, a stroke of luck, or so he guessed, he caught Katherine off guard. Enough off guard that he was able to yank Katherine off of Elena. Maybe Katherine had been too immersed in sucking the blood, or maybe his adrenaline had just taken over, giving him more strength than usual. Whatever it was, Damon had been able to grab Elena's weak form in his arms, pulling her out of Katherine's reach.

Katherine looked up at them, Elena's blood smeared over her lips, a bright pool of red that contrasted with her pale face. A wicked smile spread across her features. "I don't think I'll kill her just yet. She still has something I want, after all. Enjoy your time together—rest assured, Damon, it will be limited."

And just like that, in a blur of motion, a gust of wind—Katherine was gone.

Damon stared after her for only a few moments before turning to the girl in his arms. "Elena," he whispered, her name sliding across his lips effortlessly.

"Damon," she whispered in response, fear evident in her eyes. Without saying anything else, he wrapped his arms around her; she buried her face in his chest, muffled sobs breaking out. Her neck was still bleeding, the blood seeping onto his shirt. He would have to fix that.

He stroked her hair a few times. "Elena," he said again, quieter, "I'm going to take you back to boarding house, alright? We're going to fix your neck up before you lose too much blood, okay?"

Instead of nodding in response, like he thought she'd do, she pulled away suddenly. "Aunt Jenna," she choked out the name, "_Jeremy._"

Heart pounding in her chest, she broke away from Damon's embrace completely, feet running towards the stairs. Surely, wouldn't they have came down if they'd heard the noise? Her head was dizzy—from loss of blood, she reasoned—but she didn't stop, running up the stairs through her haze.

"Aunt Jenna?" The word cracked on her lips as she peered into her Aunt's room, a scream emitting from her lips as she saw her Jenna's bloodied form lying across her bed. "No! No, _no!_" She pushed past Damon, who'd entered the room behind her, racing down the hall towards Jeremy's room.

"Jeremy, _no_!" The anguished cry left her lips as she leaned over her brother's bloody body, grabbing his shirt, "Jer, wake up! Please, _please, _wake up! No, _no_!" She turned as she felt warm hands on her back, grabbing a hold of Damon's shirt. "He's dead! He's _dead_! She killed him!" Her head fell against his chest and she clutched at him desperately as he wrapped his arms around her. "Why, Damon, _why_?"

Damon stared over her shoulder wordlessly, stroking her hair, lingering on the bite mark, still bleeding, on her neck. His eyes wandered over Jeremy's form, until they suddenly landed on the bottle by his bed—a bottle with remnants of blood it in.

"Elena," he whispered, suddenly recalling his conversation earlier that evening with Jeremy, "It's not too late."

She pulled back, her watery eyes meeting his own. "How can you _say _that? He's _dead_!"

"I know," Damon answered, "But I—he had Anna's blood in his system when he died."

"How?"

Damon pointed wordlessly towards the bottle and Elena gasped as she realized, pieces of the puzzle clicking. "Please, Damon, change him. It's the only way—_please._" Her vision was getting fuzzy now, blurring around the edges, the wound in her neck still bleeding at an alarming rate. Her knees started to give out and Damon grabbed her, holding her upright. "Jeremy," Elena whispered, the word forming across her chapped lips, "Save Jeremy."

"Can you hang on to my back?" Damon asked. Elena nodded weakly, so he slung her over his back, her arms latching loosely around his shoulders. Gripping one arm around her leg, he picked up Jeremy in the other. "Hold tight," he instructed. Elena tightened her grip, her vision growing blurrier, and Damon took off at an inhuman speed.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Elena, they'd reached the old Salvatore boarding house. Damon barged through the front door, setting Jeremy down on the nearest couch. Only seconds after he'd set Jeremy down, Stefan came running down the stairs.

"Damon, what happened?" Stefan stalked towards Damon, arms reaching out for his girlfriend.

Damon pulled Elena away from Stefan's grasp. "I'll explain later. I've got to get stop this bite on her neck from bleeding; she's losing too much blood. Go lie Jeremy down in a room."

"Damon, tell me—"

"If you want Elena to live, then _do it._" Without waiting for a response, Damon slung Elena around, resting her comfortably in his arms. "Hold on," he whispered, "It's going to be alright."

...

Stefan smelled blood.

_Elena's _blood, or so he assumed. He hesitated outside the living room doorway, feeling a fire burning in his throat. It smelled so, so—mouth-watering. He felt the skin under his eyes grow hard, blue veins most likely evident on the pale surface. He felt his fangs grow in, sharp points that could easily puncture nearly anything. Trying to gain control of himself, Stefan hesitantly walked into the living room. The smell of blood grew stronger and it took everything in himself to keep his vampire instincts down.

"Damon, what happened?" His voice sounded strained even to his own hears, heavy with lust for Elena's blood, which he could see seeping onto the pure, white cushions of the couch.

Damon pressed the cloth he was holding more firmly against Elena's neck and cursed.

"Damon, you need to tell me why—"

"Katherine's back in town." Damon said the word _Katherine _as if it were a dirty one, staining his lips, his very being, just by saying the name. Stefan felt a mix of emotions enter his stomach—anger, curiosity, but a bit of love in there. Deep down, his heart jumped, if only just a little, even though he _knew_ it shouldn't—he had Elena now.

"This isn't working!" Damon exclaimed suddenly, tossing the cloth to the floor. His eyes looked around the room wildly before settling on his wrist.

"Damon—_no_, Damon. You can't feed her vampire blood!" Stefan moved closer to Elena's unconscious form, his throat burning more with every step he took.

"It's the only way, Stefan. It won't turn her into a vampire, not so long as we keep her safe for the next twenty-four hours or so—we just have to give her enough so she heals. Now _move._" And, for once, Stefan listened to his brother, moving out of the way. All he could focus on was the intense burning in his throat. He spared a glance at Elena's neck, feeling his eyes hardening again. Damon seemed oblivious to Stefan's internal dilemma as he bit into his wrist before settling it over Elena's mouth.

"Drink, please," he urged, squeezing a few drops into her mouth and down her throat, "Come on, Elena." Slowly, Elena's eyes began to blink open and, without really realizing what she was doing, she sucked, bit by bit, the blood falling from Damon's wrist.

Stefan's head wouldn't stop spinning—his mind wasn't working right, wasn't thinking straight. How was Damon so calm, able to keep himself in check? It was taking all of Stefan's willpower not to run over and bite the blood seeping from Elena's neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispered the words quietly, but both Damon and Elena heard, their eyes shifting towards his agonized form. "I have—I can't—"

"Go," Damon instructed, taking in his brother's hardened eyes and fangs.

Without a glance back, Stefan jumped through the open window, running away and disappearing into the dark night.

...

**A/N: So, feedback, you guys? It's mucho-appreciated, and takes less than a minute. I don't care if all you want to write is "this sucks" (though, I'd certainly prefer "this is the best story I've ever read in my whole entire existence" te-he-he), but if you could click that cute little purple review button and write a few words, I would like it very, very much. One thing I did want to say is, I know Damon was a bit OC in this first chapter, but don't worry, he'll be back to his usual witty remarks and sexual innuendos soon, te-he-he. It's just that, you know, Damon _can _be a caring, serious person when the situation calls for it - like when he threatened Isobel on Elena's behalf *swoons* or when he saved Elena when she had her car crash *swoons again* So it's not _totally _OC, but there will be lots of witty Damon in this story, because I loooooove writing that stuff! Okay, now you can go review!**


	2. Die Inside

**Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries. My attempts to compel the CW into giving me the rights failed miserably. I also do not own the song _Cut _by Plumb, who lends its lyrics to title/chapter titles.**

…

_Blood._

There was none near him—not in the middle of the forest, at least—and yet he could nearly taste its coppery taste on his tongue, feel its smoothness sliding down his throat. It burned and burned and burned, an unquenchable, unstoppable thirst. _Damn it_. Stefan punched the tree nearest to him, but the loud crack that resulted wasn't nearly satisfying enough. He needed _blood._

Breathing heavily, Stefan clutched at his hair, willing the burn in his throat to go away, to diminish completely. An unbearable, uncontrollable, _pain_. That was all he felt. _Pain. Burn. Thirst. _It reminded him of the night at Miss Mystic Falls—he'd been a monster then, and Elena had seen it, which was perhaps the worst thing of all. He'd hit rock bottom that night, yet things had slowly—but surely—started getting better afterwards.

Only now, the pain was back.

He was a monster again.

Stefan groaned, a strange, mangled sound that resonated throughout the empty woods. Why couldn't he control it? How had one taste of Elena's blood—to save his _life—_sent him over the edge like this? And how in the world was _Damon _able to control it all the time? To Stefan, it seemed infinitely unbearable.

"Stefan?" A voice that sounded strangely like Elena's rang out through the forest and Stefan lifted his groggy eyes, searching for her familiar figure. "Is everything okay? Are _you _okay?" Worry colored her voice as she took a slow step towards him.

Stefan backed up a bit, his eyes wide, his throat still burning. "Elena." The word was rough across his dry lips. "Don't—don't come closer. I can't control myself."

Elena stopped, hesitating. Something told Stefan that she should be back at the boarding house, resting and healing from the bite on her neck. Damon shouldn't have let her out; Damon _wouldn't_ have let her out, not the way he was being all protective tonight. It didn't make sense, then, that Elena was out here in front of him; then again, a lot of things didn't make sense when his throat was burning this badly. Everything sort of blended into one feeling—_thirst._

"Please Stefan," Elena whispered, "I trust you." She continued towards him and he backed up until he was against a tree, eyes wide with confusion and terror. If she came any closer, he was going to bite her. The urge was, by now, nearly uncontrollable.

"Elena, _don't!_" But it was too late; she was in front of him now, and her throat looked _extremely _delicious and pale and bare and … where was her necklace?

Suddenly, before he could lunge for her neck as his instincts had been prodding him to do, she whipped her hand out at an inhuman speed, pinning him back against the tree. And all he could think, through his thirst-fueled haze, was _how? _How was Elena this fast, this strong? "Oh, _Stefan_," she purred, her lips trailing up his jawline, towards his ear, "I've missed you _so _much." And then, she sunk her teeth straight into his neck.

…

Elena was running.

Running and running and running from some unknown danger. Her feet padded against the cobblestone alleyway, rain soaking her hair and matting it down to her face. She could see the end of the alley just ahead, a safe haven, it seemed. Only a bit more of this running and then she would be safe. Safe from whatever it was that she was running from.

She increased her speed, the light ahead growing brighter with every step her tired feet ran. _Almost, almost_. And then, "Elena, _hurry!_" A voice came from the light up ahead and suddenly Damon stepped into view, waiting at the end of the alleyway for her to reach safety. "He's right behind you!" Elena turned as she ran, nearly tripping, her eyes settling on Stefan's bloodthirsty, enraged face as he leaned in for the kill.

She screamed.

"Elena!" Damon's voice rang out with fear as Stefan's mouth drew closer to her neck. Her feet could no longer move, planted firmly in place as she prepared to meet her doom. She screamed again, though she knew it was of no use; it was the only sound that seemed able to leave her chapped lips. "Elena, wake up." Damon's voice again, calling her. Calling her to him.

"Elena, wake up, it's just a dream." _Just a dream._ Elena looked up as Stefan suddenly pulled away from her neck and stared at her. He looked lost and confused, his mouth wrung into some sort of painful half-grimace. She stared back at him in horror, watching as he suddenly began to disintegrate in front of her. "Wake up, Elena." Stefan reached out his hand and brushed it across her cheek before that, too, disappeared and she was left alone on a cobblestone street. "Elena." The street morphed into blackness and suddenly Elena was jolting upright, gasping for breath.

"Stefan?" That was the first word to leave her mouth as she regained her breath, warily taking in her surroundings.

"_'Stefan?'_" Elena jumped at the mocking voice, suddenly noticing Damon where he was perched at the foot of the couch, arm slung lazily across the back. "Really, Elena?" His face held a smirk as he stared down at her, "I save you from your crazed vampire look-a-like, feed you my blood so you don't die, bandage up your injuries all nice and tidy and all you can say is '_Stefan_?'"

Elena rolled her eyes, reaching a hand up to rub her aching head. The dream had been so _real._ "_So _not in the mood right now, Damon."

He ignored her. "I believe something along the lines of '_Oh, Damon, my savior! Whatever would __I do without your super strength, hot body, and cunning mind?'_ would be more appropriate, don't you?"

Elena glared at him. "Damon, just—just stop, alright?"

Her mind was still fuzzy, trying to put together all the pieces of the puzzle from the night before. She'd gone home and—oh, _no. _Katherine. Katherine had killed her father and Aunt Jenna. A gasp left her lips and, in an instant, Damon was by her side.

"What hurts?"

Elena shook her head, indicating that nothing was hurting. "My birth father, Damon," she said, the words coming out strangled, "She killed John. And Aunt Jenna. And Jeremy—where's Jeremy?" She jumped up from the couch, but before she could take a step, Damon had grabbed her around the waist, settling her back down on the couch.

"Slow down, Elena. Jeremy's fine."

"_Where is he_?" She wanted—_needed—_to know know, right now. Had the change taken place already? Was he a vampire? Her hands were shaking in anticipation, needing to know; he was her baby brother. She was supposed to take care of him, watch out for him, yet now he was going to be a _vampire._ And though she knew vampires could be good—case in point: Stefan and Damon—the whole idea of Jeremy being a vampire just shook her up completely.

"I moved him down to the room in the basement last night. He's … recovering."

Elena had this sudden image of Jeremy in that basement room, locked up, bars on the door. She made to stand up again, but Damon was much faster, stopping her once more. "What does _recovering _mean?"

Damon sighed. "He's adjusting, I guess. He still needs to drink from a human, to complete the change. He's just a bit weak now, that's all, and needs to get used to the thirst. Don't worry, I'm checking on him periodically. But I don't want you going down there to see him until I say so, alright?"

Elena nodded, but inside her heart was screaming, begging to see her baby brother. "What—" Elena stopped, swallowing, the next question being extremely hard to get out of her mouth, "What are we saying? About my birth father and Aunt Jenna?" She could still see Aunt Jenna's mangled body in her head, strewn across her bed, blood everywhere, on the sheets, the blanket, the pillows.

"A vicious murder. Manslaughter."

Elena nodded, swallowing the sobs that were building in the back of her throat. It was true, she supposed—a vicious murder. By _Katherine. _Which was, actually, a scary thought. Katherine had looked just _so_ like her. Same hair, same eyes, same face. Except for the fangs—those had been different. Elena sat in silence, re-playing the scene from the kitchen the night before over and over in her head, her thoughts stuck on one exchange in particular between Damon and Katherine.

She cleared her throat. "Damon?" His name came out hesitantly, like a question.

Damon looked up from his hands, which he'd been examining rather closely for the past few minutes while Elena had been sitting in silence with her thoughts. "Yes?"

Elena took a deep breath; she wasn't sure how to phrase this. "What—what did you mean when you told Katherine that it couldn't have been her, and she said it was?"

She could practically feel Damon stiffen beside her, his hands clenching into small fists. "It was nothing, Elena."

No. It was something, that much Elena had deduced. She reached out a hand, placing it over Damon's jean-clad thigh. He flinched at the touch. "Please, tell me." Her eyes looked for his, but he refused to raise his own to meet hers.

"Just forget it, alright?" There was a sharp edge to his voice, so Elena retreated, pulling her hand back as well. What else had happened last night? Everything just seemed so fuzzy, like it was some sort of distant dream that she could only remember bits and pieces from—some pieces which were vividly clear, others which had been covered by a shady haze. After the incident with Katherine, he'd taken her back here. Stefan had been there and then—then there was a blank spot.

"Did you _compel me_?" she asked suddenly, trying to figure out why she had a blank spot in her memory, a missing memory.

Damon's eyes widened in hurt and surprise as he turned to look at Elena. "Do you really think I would do that?"

Elena shrugged her shoulders "I—I don't know what to think anymore."

His eyes softened. "No, I didn't." She watched as his gaze suddenly returned to its normal, teasing look. "I couldn't have compelled you even if I wanted to—necklace, remember?"

Elena clutched at the vervain necklace around her neck. "Right, of course." How had she forgotten about it? "At least you'll know how to tell me and Katherine apart—I _never _take this off." It was true. Not when she went to bed, not when she showered, not _ever._

"Good."

Quiet resumed around them and Elena found her body shifting, of its own accord, a little closer to Damon. She reassured herself that she just needed human contact after the horrifying events of last night, and Damon happened to be the only human—well, _vampire_, but it was close enough—around.

"So what happened, then? I feel like I have this blank spot in my memory." She furrowed her eyebrows, trying desperately to remember, but coming up blank.

Damon's mouth twitched up into his trademark one-sided smirk. "You passed out, at one point," he told her, "It was very damsel-in-distress of you. Of course, I was easily able to revive you. The knight in shining armor, for once. Maybe you should start calling me Saint Damon."

Elena rolled her eyes, about to retort, when suddenly a memory came to her.

_Blood._

Damon's wrist over her mouth, sucking the blood from his skin as she slowly regained consciousness. _Blood. _Liquid and coppery, sliding effortlessly down her throat.

Elena screamed.

…

Stefan stared at the girl in front of him, her lips and mouth stained with red—his blood. She looked so much like Elena and yet, Stefan knew there was no way in _hell _she could be Elena. Even through his bloodthirsty, hungry haze, he could deduce this much. He stared, open-mouthed, as she smiled at him, showing off all of her fangs.

"Katherine," he breathed, the name like a whisper across his tongue. He knew he should be doing something—hadn't Damon said it was Katherine who'd hurt Elena last night? He should be avenging Elena, ripping Katherine limb from limb, staking her through the heart, setting her on fire, giving her vervain, _anything. _But all he could do was stare at her, stare at the lovely Katherine in all of her beauty.

"Stefan, it's been much too long, hasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Oh, Stefan." She reached out and ran a hand along his face, down his jawline, across his lips. "It's so wonderful to see you."

Stefan swallowed, trying to regain his senses. "You—you hurt Elena last night," he finally sputtered, the words barely making their way past his hungry, dry lips.

Katherine laughed. "Oh, I did much more than that. You have nothing to worry about, it's all part of the plan. I'll get rid of her soon—and then it will be me, you, and Damon once more. Just like old times." She leaned up then, again, pressing her lips firmly against his. And even though every bone in his body was screaming at him to stop, to let go, that she was planning on hurting Elena, he couldn't; instead, Stefan surrendered himself to the kiss, letting his lips move in perfect synchronization with hers as the thirst gently left his throat.

He was the first to pull back minutes, hours—he wasn't sure—later, his breathing ragged. She reached out, placing a gentle hand against his face. "I'll see you soon Stefan." With those parting words, Katherine was gone, a gentle breeze left over in the cool night air.

…

"Elena! _Elena!_" Damon's voice broke through her scream, her terror, and the anguished cry died on her lips as she stared into his eyes. She felt the tears coming up now, threatening to spill over her eyelashes and tumble down her cheeks, waterfalls that would cascade down, down, down.

"I drank _blood._" She couldn't wrap her mind around it. It made her feel sick, disgusted with herself. There was something different, seeing Damon drink blood from a cup, even _giving _Stefan her own blood to drink as she'd once had to do, than actually drinking the blood herself. And not just any blood, either, but vampire blood. _Damon's blood_. She felt another cry building up in her throat, but Damon shushed her before it could fully form.

"Elena, it's _fine. _You're fine. It was necessary."

She shook her head, one tear slipping down her soft cheek. Damon reached out and captured it with his finger. They both stared at his finger for a moment, watching the tear until it dissolved into nothingness on his skin.

Damon cleared his throat. "I had to, Elena. You were losing too much blood and it was the only way to stop it from bleeding. You might've _died._"

Elena couldn't answer, blinking back the rest of the tears before they could fall.

"Besides," Damon went on, trying to lighten the conversation, "You and I both know Saint Stefan would have my hide if you died. So, really, you can just think of it as—"

"_Stefan._" Elena gasped, suddenly remembering his departure at the sight—the smell—of her blood that night. "Where is he? Is he alright? Did he come back? Is—"

"Slow down, Sherlock, let's take this one question at a time." Damon smirked. "Let's see, where is he? Don't know. Is he alright? Don't care. Did he come back? Don't think so."

"_Damon. _Be serious, please."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "But I _am _being serious, Elena."

Before either of them could say another word, the front door suddenly opened. A set of tired footsteps sounded against the floorboards in the hallway. Elena and Damon stood up at the same time, turning to face the doorway. Damon quickly re-positioned himself so that he was standing ever-so-slightly in front of Elena—just in case anything went wrong with Saint Stefan.

"Stefan, where have you _been?_ Is everything alright?" Elena was the first one to speak, peering over Damon's shoulder at her boyfriend, the tired rings heavy and obvious underneath his dark eyes.

No one spoke for a moment, Stefan simply staring at Elena. Damon was the one who broke the silence. "Everything under control?"

Stefan nodded.

"Good," Damon went on, "Because I don't want to deal with a brooding Stefan for _another _hundred-and-fifty years until the next Elena-Katherine comes along."

Elena frowned at Damon before side-stepping him and walking over towards Stefan. She placed her hands on his chest, leaning towards him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Damon turned away, eyes turning cold as he tried to ignore their moment. _Of course. _Saint Stefan had came back, and now everything was ruined. "What happened?" he heard Elena whisper, "Where have you been?"

"I was just around. I—I ran into Katherine." Damon turned towards them again, hearing Elena's sharp intake of breath at the name _Katherine. _

"I hope you teared her limb from limb," Damon hissed, walking forwards, "I hope you crushed her body, tore her to shreds, sucked her blood dry—"

"Damon, _stop_," Elena commanded, always the peace-maker. Turning towards Stefan, she lowered her voice, "What happened with Katherine?"

"She was too strong for me to kill her," he said, knowing that he might've been able to stick her with a vervain dart, at least, while they'd been kissing, if only he hadn't been so caught up in her, "But she talked a bit—she wants to kill Elena."

Damon's hands clenched into fists by his sides. "That's not happening."

"I know." Turning to Elena, Stefan continued, "Elena, you should stay here. I just—one of us needs to be watching you at all times. Tell Jenna that you're staying with Bonnie, Caroline, anything—"

Elena's sharp intake of breath at Jenna's name had Stefan stopping mid-sentence.

"That won't be necessary," Damon supplied.

Elena leaned her head into Stefan's chest, tears falling onto his shirt as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing the top of her head. "Katherine killed her," she whispered into his shirt, clutching desperately at the fabric as if that would somehow reverse all the events of the night before. "She's gone, and I can't bring her back."

"I'm so sorry," Stefan whispered, feeling a knot form in the pit of his stomach. Over Elena's head, his eyes met Damon's, an unspoken question being asked in the air between them: _What happened last night?_

And Damon wasn't even sure he knew the answer himself anymore.

…

**A/N: I know, I know. Not enough Damon/Elena. Just going off where the season finale left off, this is Stefan/Elena at the start, but don't worry—Elena will be running for Damon's arms soon enough. I tried to throw some Damon-esque comments/humour in this chapter, and hopefully there'll be more in the later chapters. Also, in the next chapter, we get to see vampire-Jeremy—and his first taste of human blood—so look forward to that! This was a fast update, especially for me (I wrote it all this afternoon/evening because the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone 'till I had it written), but the next chapter probably won't be up until Thursday/Friday due to this icky thing called 'final exams.'**


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